


weave (the threaded hearts remix)

by templemarker



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/pseuds/templemarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't until Raleigh gets to the mess that he realizes that the sweater doesn't smell like him. He looks down: it's definitely his. The grease stain that won't come out on the sleeve proves it. But the grease stain also means it's the one Mako...borrowed from him, a couple of weeks ago. He never asked for it back, and she never offered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	weave (the threaded hearts remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littledust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Threads](https://archiveofourown.org/works/893129) by [littledust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust). 



Raleigh wakes first, which is unusual. Mako has her day planned out in advance, and usually there's an 0700 to kick things off. (Raleigh is more of a "when do I have to be there?" kind of guy.) The lights are dimmed almost all the way down; it gets too dark when they're off, with no windows or ports in his berth. It kind of makes Mako glow, shadows falling away from her.

He rubs his eyes, bleary, and when he opens them again he notices how her hair has fallen, the blue tips scattered across her cheek. She snores a little, which he finds hilarious, and he wonders whether their drifting session earlier that week has somehow switched their sleep patterns. Mako is never in REM past 0530. 

He gets out of bed as carefully as he can, gently laying the sheets back on the bed, and hops into yesterday's jeans. He grabs a sweater off the floor and hauls it on, toeing into his sandals and pushing against the door to make sure it doesn't squeak. Breakfast in bed sounds particularly good, and if Mako is sleeping to his pattern she'll especially appreciate the coffee first thing. 

It isn't until Raleigh gets to the mess that he realizes that the sweater doesn't smell like him. He looks down: it's definitely his. The grease stain that won't come out on the sleeve proves it. But the grease stain also means it's the one Mako...borrowed from him, a couple of weeks ago. He never asked for it back, and she never offered. 

The sweater is so big on her, it kind of swallows her whole. She doesn't wear it often in public, not after the gossipy looks they got when she first borrowed it, but when they're in his berth or hers, or shooting the shit with Chuck, it'll be on. She kind of wraps it around herself, sometimes using the belt from her _gi_ to pull it closer to her body. Sometimes she gets a flush on her cheeks, the sweater making her a little warm. When the vents are open, she balls her hands into fists, the arms of the sweater swimming over them, clutched tight to keep her fingers from freezing. '

When she's in public, around the PPDC's fleet workers and officers, she is always carefully, precisely composed. Every piece of her uniform is nearly tailored to fit her frame; not a hair is out of place. Even the blue tips of her hair are nearly anchored into place, a hint of who she really is under the mannered, efficient officer. But the moment she gets home, it's soft pants and Raleigh's sweater.

Not that he's watches her a lot, or anything. It's not creepy to watch your Jaeger partner. It's actually a side effect from the neural bridging. At least, that's the story he's telling himself. 

 

After he goes through the line, gathering granola and yogurt and fish congee and broth, he finishes off with coffee, balancing the tray with one hand as he fills a flask and dumps two mugs on the tray. It smells so good; Raleigh is always hungry from the moment he wakes up, and its more intense now that Mako has them actually keeping to a training regimen. For years he got by on a ration bar and whatever kind of bread was going, working construction or picking up whatever was available. There's definitely something to be said for a regular meal. 

As he heads back, he notices another scent alongside the food. He pulls the sweater, loose around the neck where he ripped some of the stitches out, over his nose and inhales. It kind of smells like him--he catches a hint of his deodorant and ruefully wonders when the last time he washed this thing. But it's mostly something subtler, kind of lightly orangey and a little spicy. He likes it, but racks his brain to what it's from. He's in front of his door when it comes to him--it's the smell of Mako's hair stuff, the cream she works into her hair. Raleigh ducks his head, hiding his grin; there's already enough gossip about the two of them, he doesn't want to add more fuel to the fire. 

Not that two mugs on a tray walking into his berth would help, though. 

He goes in as silent as he went out, and it's a miracle that Mako's still asleep. She starts shifting as soon as the smell of food and coffee starts to saturate the air of the small room, and Raleigh sets the tray on his desk, popping the lid off the flask to pour coffee into the two cups. He dumps sugar in his, and keeps hers black. 

Raleigh goes and perches on the bed next to her as she pushes herself upright and rubs a hand over her face. Her eyes focus just long enough to pull the mug from his hands, and he laughs a little. "Morning," he says. 

She just eyes him over the rim of her mug. "You sleep too much," she says accusingly. 

"Hey, sometimes you need a lie-in," he protests, dropping a hand to rest on her thigh. She smiles at him, still a little groggy. She looks him up and down, and smirks. 

"You're wearing my sweater," she says, pressing her palm against his sternum, twisting her fingers into the fabric. 

"Technically it's my sweater," he temporizes, but he smiles back, willing to lose this one. 

"Take it off," she says. "Mine."

"I'll be cold," he counters. "I only have an undershirt on."

"We can fix that," she says. "Take it off."

"Okay, right brain," he says, putting his mug on the side table and tugging it up over his head. Barely a second passes, and Mako has ducked into it, the sleeves hanging over her hands as she picks her coffee and holds it between both hands. 

"Mmm," she says. "You made it warm for me. I guess you can live."

Raleigh ducks a hand under the sweater to rest against her sleep-warm skin. "And what about me?" 

"Come back to bed," she says, flipping over the covers. "I'll make you warm."

"I knew I was your favorite," he says, and laughs when she hits him with the pillow. He leans in closer. "My sweater looks good on you," he says, quiet but happy. 

"Mine," she says, reflecting his own smile like the other half of him. Mako puts a warm hand on his cheek, and pulls him down for a kiss.


End file.
